Five Languages of Love
by SakuraCrevellari
Summary: If Jaime Lannister was aware of his own behaviors, he would have noticed that he has been in love with Brienne of Tarth for more time than he can imagine.


**_Quality Time._**

Jaime Lannister had many secrets he was ready to take into his tomb, one of them being the true reason why he had betrayed the one who had been his King, the one he had vowed to protect.

Yes, he tried to tell Ned Stark. And also Catelyn Stark. But neither of them had the disposition to listen to him, and why would they? After all, the fame of "man without honor" followed him like a shadow. And they were an honorable family. Of course they wouldn't believe him.

So he didn't expect much of the beast with woman shape that was sitting across him in the bathroom, but he still talked. Maybe it was delusion caused by the fever that had taken possession of his body after losing his hand, he couldn't tell. The only thing he was certain of was that he did feel what moments early told the heir of Lord Selwyn: "I trust you".

And that's why he decided to talk about the day in which Ned Stark found him covered in the blood of his King, blood that had splashed everywhere after he pierced the royal back using the sword meant to protect him. But why? What was the reason?

Simple: Protecting the population of King's Landing from dying in flames, destiny that was interrupted when he, the leader of the Kingsguard, decided to break his most sacred vows.

His most heavy burden was, in reality, the noblest moment of his life. And he only could confide that story with the piercing blue eyes that sat across him, because there, in the worst day of his life, he felt secure beside the one who originally started as his captor… even if she still despised him.

* * *

**_Gifts._**

He had to admit it: He never had to prepare gifts for another woman who wasn't his sister. Even with Myrcella, he never allowed himself to gift something to her, fearing that that could reveal the secrets that would put in danger the life of all his children.

However, he was certain of something: None of the things that could be useful to Cersei or Myrcella would have the same value in the eyes of the only daughter of the House Tarth, and that was a fact. He knew it thanks to the time they had spent together, even if this wasn't a lot.

So, he finally decided something slightly different. Something unusual for the common highborn lady, but perfect for Brienne, who was unusual in the best of ways.

He didn't have the obligation to give her something. However, he felt that making her a gift was the most appropriate thing he could do given the circumstances that surrounded them.

The war could take them for different paths during undetermined time. It was uncertain if they even could reunite again after it, considering that both of them had dangerous duties to fulfill. Still, he felt that he had to help Brienne in some way to keep the vow she had sworn to Lady Catelyn when the noble woman was still alive. And for this (and after a lot of time considering) he chose some gifts worth of the woman who had more honor than he, in his entire life.

A sword, and an armor.

But the sword wasn't just any sword. It had to be fit for the challenge, and he happened to have the weapon perfect for the job.

From the wooden stand were it rest, the one who once were the best knight in the Seven Kingdoms took a shimmering sword, almost newly forged and never used, and gave it to the woman who was just been reading the few paragraphs that composed his own unfinished story.

– Valyrian Steel – She said in awe, contemplating the light that reflected on the polished and lethal blade.

– It's yours.

The surprise soon filled the eyes of Brienne, who immediately refused to receive such present, until she heard the truth of its origin.

Then, accepting it was the only right thing to do. After all, protecting the daughter of Lord Eddard Stark with a weapon made using the sword that had belonged to the honorable man was just fitting.

So it was also proper, though a little strange, to accept the armor that Jaime had ordered to made especially for her.

And the oldest of the Lannister wouldn't admit, but that was his way of asking the woman of Tarth to keep herself safe while he couldn't be by her side to protect her.

* * *

**_Acts of Service._**

Refusing to Brienne's petition to take Riverrun peacefully would have been easy. He could have betrayed her as soon as she turned her back, deceive her to make her think that the things would go according her wishes, and in the last moment fulfill the request Cersei had made to him.

Request that included the death of every man, child and woman that lived inside of the walls of the ancestral home that belonged to the Tullys.

But he didn't do it. He didn't want to That's why he accepted so quickly the petition the woman under the commands of Sansa Stark had made to him, and didn't even think about betraying her.

There were very few things he could do for her, for Brienne, especially considering the state the world was in that particular moment. And truth was, he wanted to do for her as many things she had do for him so long ago, since they met and hated each other on sight.

So many things had happened since that time. For starters, he was sure their relationship wasn't one founded on top of hate, even if they did bicker every time they ran into each other. Secondly, she was the one who helped him go through the darkest moment in his life, when he lost the hand he used to brandish his sword.

And that's why the siege of Riverrun ended without deaths except for the old Brynden. Because the most he could do for the woman whom he started to feel something he never had was to help her achieve the wishes made by the family she was loyal to.

The Starks.

* * *

**_Physical Touch._**

Their first meeting was everything but pleasant. Maybe being a prisoner was one of the reasons, but Jaime didn't feel grateful for the existence of the woman that stood protectively beside Lady Catelyn Stark, who had him as her captive.

Then he had to travel alongside that woman whom he immediately categorized as a beast, thing that didn't diminish his bad humor in the slightest, and he swore to himself that as soon as he could he would finish that pathetic imitation of a knight.

But then they were captured, and something changed in their dynamic.

First, he found himself protecting her from the men who wanted to rape her. Then, he revealed her his most protected secret.

Finally, they both started to help each other. Reluctantly at first, but everything started with the male hand holding softly the female one. A warning without sound, subtle, but effective.

Then, a little support that allowed him, now one handed, could eat the food that was in his plate.

And for many years after that the physical touches were very few, they mirrored perfectly the way their relationship developed.

Suddenly, it wasn't only soft hand touches. Their gazes were filled now with respect and unspoken affection, plus a hint of longing. And they could stay that way for many years more, if the war that would change everything hadn't knocked to their doors: The war against the dead. It was in the antechamber of this event where she dared for the first time to grab the eldest of the Lions by his arm, to scream at him like one can only scream to the loved and respected when they won't listen to reasons. And it was that unexpected moment that made the Lannister change his perspective about the things that had to be done in the name of honor.

The honor he had recovered after looking into two blue eyes that shined more than the sapphires.

And he left, alone, to the North, to the place were Death was more than a possibility: It was the enemy to defeat.

And it was in the North where the few physical touches he had shared with Brienne increased considerably, equally proportioned to the affection he harbored towards her.

Maybe it was the omnipresence of the Death one could feel in Winterfell before the great battle what inspired him, maybe not. Who knows? However, truth was that one of the most intimate moments he had ever experienced in his life came through his sword: The Knighting of Brienne of Tarh, because when she raised and stared into his eyes, he could notice her gaze was filled with a light so special all his body felt warm and in peace.

The world could have vanished in that moment and he wouldn't have noticed, so engrossed in that moment that, ironically considering the imminent danger, was filled with happiness.

Yes, it was "one" of the most intimate moments he had. But thanks to the old Gods and the new, it wasn't the last.

The alcohol wasn't to blame about what happened after the banquet meant to celebrate their victory against the army of the dead. No one, nothing, was to blame for the things that developed into the night, because it were something he had wished for only the Gods know how many time.

And he yearned for it so much, to the point he didn't even know how to act being alone with the woman he now knew he loved, when in other time he didn't had difficulty stripping the one he had craved for.

He had become clumsy. He felt embarrassed. But when both shirts fell onto the floor, with the heat of the fire caressing softly their naked skin, he knew nothing of that mattered.

The only thing that truly mattered was to express Brienne how much he now loved him, using as a language the sweetest kisses and the most tender of the caresses.

Over, and over, and over again.

* * *

**_Words of Affirmation._**

He had left the room while Brienne slept, hoping that she was tired enough to not wake up until the next day, when it would be too late.

He didn't want to see her. Well, not exactly. Truth was he wanted to see her the rest of his days, until he was old, decrepit and grumpy, even if that meant he had to spend the rest of his times in the North that he used to hate.

He wanted to be beside her, and that's why he had to leave before she noticed his absence in the bed they had been sharing the last days, days that were filled with a joy he never believed could feel.

But he was too slow. Or perhaps, his body decided unconsciously to delay for a few seconds the preparations of the horse that would take him to the South just enough for Brienne to catch him in the courtyard.

His heart ached like it never had when he noticed by the corner of his eye the presence of the woman he had started to slowly love for who knows how many years ago. Did it start when he gave her the sword? Or before that, when he returned to save her from a bear?

Maybe even before, when he first opened his heart to her, revealing the reason behind the vow that had been broken when he had pierced the back of Aerys II Targaryen.

He could feel the fast beating of his heart in his ears. But he pretended to not notice the presence of the other, trying to focus on his horse, until the female voice broke the silence.

– They are going to destroy that city. You know they will.

And, by the Gods, he knew. He knew, and that was why he couldn't sit around with crossed arms, for more tempting that idea sounded. Because, even if for many years he didn't care about being the Kingslayer, that had been because he knew his actions had saved the population of King's Landing.

And he wasn't ready to leave that entire people to die. Not if he could avoid it.

But it was a fight he had to confront… alone.

Or so he thought. – You ever ran away from a fight? – He knew she never had. It was one of the many things he loved about her. But he also knew that he had done it, and that was one of the many things he hated about herself.

His thoughts were interrupted by the warm tact of the womanly hands that held his face, making him finally stare to the tall knight, and he almost broke in that second. But he gathered all the strength he had left, because he knew that this time he had no right to fly away from the war that was initiating in the South.

Nevertheless, that strength almost vanished when she spoke again. – You're not like your sister. You're not. You are better than she is. You are a good man and you can't save her. You don't need to die with her. Stay here. Stay with me… Please. Stay.

The tears that started to drown the voice and the eyes of the brave woman of Tarth ended him emotionally. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to tell her that he would stay in the North with her. He wanted to send everything to hell. He wanted to go back to the chambers they had shared during the last weeks, go under the covers with her, and sleep holding her.

He wanted to be happy.

But he reminded to himself, that if there was someone who didn't deserve happiness, that was him without a doubt.

And that's why he decided to break that pure heart, which had given him so much. – You think I'm a good man? – He inhaled deeply before going on, because the words he was about to speak damaged him like he was spitting swords. – I put a boy out of a tower window and crippled him for life. For Cersei. I strangled my cousin with my own hands, just to get back to Cersei. I would have murdered every man, woman and child in Riverrun for Cersei. – And all of it was truth. However, he had to fight with himself to not reveal all of the truth: That he had accepted to take Riverrun without bloodshed… For Brienne. She didn't have to know that. Not if he wanted that what he was about to say had the enough impact to damage her and stop her from following him. – She is hateful… And so am I.

And he left. He turned, climbed his horse and left without turning back, because if he stayed a few seconds more he would doubt about his journey to the south, and he couldn't afford it. Not after all the sins he had committed, the ones that had allowed his sister to became the danger she was now.

He knew it. He knew the relationship they had in the past was what nurtured the person his twin had developed into, and that's why he and no one else had to save the inhabitants of King's Landing.

Again.

How he would have loved to live a peaceful life in the North, he thought. Yes, he indeed hated it, it was unbelievably cold, but he was certain that by Brienne's side he could discover things that would grow on him.

To begin with, holding her in his arms had been immensely warm. And he had loved that. Not like the snow that now fell onto him, feeling like cold daggers on his naked cheeks.

_Please, go back inside, _was his last thought as he left Winterfell. _Don't cry for this pathetic imitation of a man that is not worth your love._

* * *

_**Notes:**_ My back hurts after translating this, but I feel accomplished. I originally wrote this in Spanish, my mother language, so sorry if there are any mistakes!


End file.
